* Speaking of motorcycle-powered vehicles with more than two wheels, Engine Punk profiled the Miss Bacfire, a BAC V-twin-powered GN-chassised Shelsley Walsh hillclimb special that takes a page from the Bloody Mary in terms of stripped-down race simplicity.

* Datsun 240Z designer Yoshihiko Matsuo also penned a sport wagon that never got built. At least, not until recently, when Z restorer Jay Ataka built it. Japanese Nostalgic Car has more on the car and its conception.

* Chevrolet didn’t build a Corvette with a retractable hardtop, even as a concept. But GM designer Francis H. Scott did – and he built it in his living room, no less. Mac’s Motor City Garage has the story on it.

When brand loyalists gather in Kenosha, Wisconsin, for this year’s American Motors Owners Association homecoming, a visit to the Kenosha History Center will certainly be in order, as the museum will be displaying AMC’s 1977 Concept 80 AM Van, a vehicle that American Motors once believed represented its path to prosperity and a glimpse into the automotive future.

In early 1977, AMC was struggling to preserve its reputation as an innovator in the domestic automotive marketplace. Looking to generate a bit of positive publicity and convince a skeptical press that AMC had a clear vision of the future, its public relations department created the idea of a traveling roadshow to highlight a series of concept vehicles. Stops were planned in seven North American cities, including Detroit, New York, Washington, Atlanta, Chicago, Los Angeles, San Francisco and Toronto. Attendance at these “Concept 80″ events was by invitation only, ensuring that key influencers (including a very young Patrick Foster, who wrote of his experience in the September 2009 issue ofHemmings Classic Car) would have ample time to take in the six futuristic AMC models shown, as well as ample access to AMC executives.

Each show was kicked off by AMC’s chairman, Roy D. Chapin, who told of a future shaped by an energy shortage that would force the downsizing of personal transportation. Chapin predicted that Americans would be hesitant to embrace the subcompacts and minicars offered by foreign manufacturers, but would welcome compact cars that offered generous amounts of style, comfort, and build quality. The cars shown at each event represented AMC’s view of the 1980 market, and included everything from a futuristic electric car (the Concept Electron) to a scaled-down Jeep CJ (the Concept Jeep II). The most mainstream vehicles were the Concept I, the Concept II and the Concept III, which looked, respectively, like slightly futuristic versions of AMC’s Gremlin, Pacer and Hornet. The standout among the Concept 80 vehicles, however, was the Concept AM Van, a custom van in three-quarter scale that inadvertently foreshadowed the minivan craze that would sweep America in the mid-1980s.

As described in period press releases, the Concept AM Van was designed to give three-across seating and offer exceptional visibility to its occupants. With its four-wheel-drive drivetrain, the AM Van was intended to be functional as well as stylish, offering go-anywhere utility to families and commercial buyers alike (although the plus-size front spoiler, sidepipes and oversize wheel flares probably wouldn’t have held up well during strenuous off-roading).

In exit polling of those attending Concept 80 shows, the AM Van was chosen as the best design by 31 percent of those surveyed, easily besting the second-place Concept Grand Touring by a full seven percent. AMC should have listened to those attending Concept 80 sessions and put the AM Van into production, but instead, budget limitations prompted the company to release an updated Hornet (as the Concord) and an updated Gremlin (as the Spirit).

The AM Van never made it beyond the styling buck stage, and therefore exists without an engine, a full interior, or even rolling wheels. Given the concept’s near 40-year age, its original paint remains remarkably well-preserved, in part due to the care given this important AMC concept under collector Joe Bortz’s stewardship. The AM Van has only been displayed in public on two or three occasions over the past 30 years, which makes the vehicle’s loan to the Kenosha History Center that much more extraordinary.

The Concept AM Van will be on display at the museum from July 10 until September 2015. Also in recognition of this year’s AMO Kenosha Homecoming, Joe Bortz will speak on July 25 at the UAW Local 72 in Kenosha, addressing his experience with AMC and his passion for collecting concept cars. For additional information on the Kenosha History Center, visit KenoshaHistoryCenter.org; for additional information on this year’s Kenosha Homecoming, visit AMONational.com.

UPDATE (9.July 2014): And a photo of the AM Van in the history center, photo by Jeff Schenning.

What does the future look like? Perhaps no consumer product has endeavored to answer this question in quite the same way as the concept car, which has traditionally existed to give consumers an often-hazy glimpse into both the future of transportation and the future of society. A new exhibit opening next month at Atlanta’s High Museum of Art, Dream Cars: Innovative Design, Visionary Ideas, will take a closer look at both the process of design and at 17 revolutionary concept cars that presented the future to an astonished public.

Syd Mead’s two-wheel concept.

Ken Gross, consulting curator for the Dream Cars exhibit, said he admits to being heavily influenced by the GM Motorama shows he attended as a child. In choosing materials for the exhibit, Gross wanted to give a sense of the design process instead of focusing merely on the finished product. Though the exhibit will feature concept cars, it will also include supporting materials such as artist’s renderings and scale models, each a necessary step in the design process. A glimpse at Syd Mead’s “Gyroscopically Stabilized Two-Wheel Car” shows a dramatic vision of a future that never quite came to pass, yet manages to look far better than the present we’re living in.

Included among the exhibits will be Paul Arzens’s “L’Oeuf Electrique,” or “Electric Egg,” a concept created out of war-time need for practical intra-city transportation that didn’t burn fossil fuels. Arzen, an artist and industrial designer with two previous concept automobiles to his credit, created the battery-powered aluminum and Plexiglas bubblecar in 1942 to meet his transportation needs in a Paris under Nazi occupation. With a claimed range of 60 miles on a full charge (at an average speed of 44 MPH), the diminutive commuter car proved ideal for urban use, delivering Arzen freedom from wartime fuel shortages and rationing. Though L’Oeuf was never formally displayed as a concept car and never put into production, it did predict both the bubblecar trend of the 1950s and the electric urban car movement that is gaining increasing traction in Europe today. On loan from the Musée des Artes et Métiers in Paris, France, L’Oeuf is making its American debut with the Dream Cars exhibit.

Ghia’s 1955 Streamline X “Gilda.” Photo by Michael Furman.

Innovation in concept cars can take many roles. The Buick Centurion, which appeared in 1956, favored a rear-view camera over side-view mirrors, a trend that’s starting to re-emerge with designers today. Though side mirrors will likely remain a fixture for quite some time (thanks to DOT regulations), back-up cameras will soon be incorporated on all new automobiles sold in the United States. Adaptive cruise control is another common feature on modern automobiles, yet the 1959 Cadillac Cyclone XP-74 concept predicted this trend with its innovative (if dangerously protruding) range-sensing Dagmars.

Bertone’s 1970 Lancia Stratos Zero. Photo by Michael Furman.

Postwar Italian coachbuilders and their flair for the dramatic are well represented. Examples of Italian style include Bertone’s 1954 Alfa Romeo Berlinetta Aerodynamica Technica 7 (B.A.T. 7), an aerodynamic masterpiece with pronounced and inverted rear fins that were reportedly inspired by the folded wings of a bat; Ghia’s “shaped-by-the-wind,” turbine-powered 1955 Streamline X “Gilda”; Pininfarina’s 1970 Ferrari 512 S Modulo, often called the “wildest concept ever created” for its low roofline and sliding cockpit entrance; and Bertone’s 1970 Lancia Stratos HF Zero, a futuristic wedge design that would go on to form the basis of an extremely successful sports and rally car.

The influence of aircraft design is obvious throughout the exhibit, but nowhere is this more evident than with the 1948 Tasco. Designed by Gordon Buehrig, the man behind the Cord 810′s design, the Tasco (an abbreviation of The American Sports Car) was designed to offer an affordable American alternative to British sports cars from manufacturers such as Jaguar and Morgan. It was Buehrig who made the connection between sports cars and aircraft, and the Tasco sports its aeronautical influence in designs ranging from a cockpit with wraparound glass to the fully shrouded wheels at all four corners. Seeking a backer to put the Tasco into production, Buehrig approached both automakers and aircraft manufacturers (which, Buehrig reckoned, would be looking for new production in the postwar years), but none showed an interest in building the unconventional lightweight sports car.

GM’s Firebird I XP-21 concept. Photo by Michael Furman.

Another concept with obvious ties to aircraft design is the 1953 General Motors Firebird I XP-21, which goes so far as to sport a prominent vertical stabilizer, vestigial wings, a sharply pointed nose cone and a Plexiglas canopy covering a single-seat cockpit. The enormous exhaust port gives a clue to the Firebird’s unconventional turbine engine, a design that held much promise for automakers in the 1950s and 1960s. Though the Firebird I would go on to influence two additional Firebird concepts, the cars themselves were far too radical a design to see production.

Dream Cars: Innovative Design, Visionary Ideas will run from May 21 to September 7 at the High Museum of Art in Atlanta Georgia. For additional details, visit High.org.

In April 1965, a Bill Mitchell-designed concept hit the stage at the New York Auto Show. Though no one in attendance could know it at the time, this car, dubbed the Mako Shark II, would go on to predict not just the shape of the third-generation Corvette, but also an astonishing number of features that would eventually appear on other cars.

Like the original Mako Shark, which foretold the styling of the second-generation Corvette, the Mako Shark II featured lines that were said to be influenced by creatures of the deep. In recognition of this, the concept bore the same blue-fading-to-gray paint seen on the original Mako Shark concept, but that’s really where the external similarities ended. The Mako Shark II’s nose was lower and pointed to a sharper angle, while its muscular front fenders were taller and perhaps even more exaggerated. Instead of a twin-bubble roof, the Mako Shark II’s roof was nearly flat, but flowed rearward to form a boattail shape on the high rear decklid. Louvers, reminiscent of gills, shaded the rear window (and as those who drove the concept admitted, largely eliminated rear visibility), and this theme was further explored on front fender vents and on cornering lamp covers. Behind the scenes, however, there was some sleight of hand going on, as the Mako Shark II was built on a chassis liberated from a Mako Shark I show car.

The original Mako Shark II concept, used for static display only.

Two Mako Shark II cars were ultimately constructed, and the concept that made its appearance in New York was nothing more than a rolling, non-functional show car. Its square-tube, oval-exit side exhaust was little more than window dressing, and its airplane-style square-corner steering wheel would have been less than ideal for road use. While both design elements were bold and futuristic, neither made it into the second Mako Shark II concept, a fully functional automobile that was completed in time for the 1965 Paris Auto Show.

Under the flip-forward front clip (a design that would appear on the fourth-generation Corvette, launched in 1984), the Mako Shark II played host to Chevrolet’s new 427-cu.in. Mark IV V-8 engine, mated to a three-speed Turbo HydraMatic transmission. The big-block V-8 would debut in the 1966 Corvette (as well as other products in the Chevrolet model line, like the Biscayne, Caprice and Impala), but the soon-to-be-legendary engine made its first non-race appearance between the fenders of the Mako Shark II. Other features that would later appear on rival-brand products included a pair of access hatches, mounted alongside the hood, which permitted easy access to common service items (as later seen on the 1970 Datsun 240Z), and a variable-position rear spoiler assembly that could add downforce at high speed (seen on a variety of current models, ranging from the Porsche Boxster to the Bugatti Veyron).

Bill Mitchell poses with his design.

To allow easier access to the car’s futuristic cockpit, the car’s rear-hinged roof tilted upward at the press of a button. Once inside, the driver sat in a seat that was fixed in position; instead of the seat moving forward to accommodate drivers of different dimensions, the steering wheel tilted down and telescoped rearward. Gas and brake pedals, along with the high beam dimmer switch, were mounted on a movable platform that adjusted to fit those of various inseams. While no automaker currently uses a fixed seat design, several companies (including GM) offer electrically adjustable pedals to optimize fit for drivers of all sizes.

The Mako Shark II’s forward thinking didn’t end there. Both the fuel gauge and the speedometer were digital, foreshadowing a trend that would invade the industry in the 1980s before automakers realized that, when it comes to instrumentation, simple really is better. Wherever possible, the concept’s controls were recessed to maximize occupant safety in the event of an accident, a design that would soon become prevalent throughout the industry. Certain systems were even self-diagnosing: when one of the car’s six headlamps burned out, the driver received a warning of this on the instrument panel.

The car’s flip-forward front clip would appear on the fourth-generation Corvette.

In both static display and functional prototype form, the Mako Shark II was a huge hit with car show attendees on both sides of the Atlantic. “Build it,” was the overwhelming response, and GM listened; its original plan was to put the car into production as the third-generation Corvette beginning in 1967, but the car’s innovative shape produced numerous issues during testing. Despite its low nose and high tail, the car developed issues with lift at high speed, leading to handling best described as “nervous,” even for experienced test drivers. Outward visibility from the driver’s seat was another issue, as the car’s sloping hood and tall front fenders conspired to block visibility to the front left and the front right. To the rear, visibility was all but nonexistent, thanks to the aforementioned louvers that covered the rear window. Though they were variable in pitch, even in the fully open position the slats gave just partial visibility to the rear, and this was further obscured by the concept’s tall decklid.

The necessary changes couldn’t be made in time for the 1967 model year, so the introduction of the third-generation Corvette was delayed until the 1968 model year. Unlike the second-generation Corvettes, which had adopted the Sting Ray name with a space between the words, the new Corvette originally came to market sans an aquatic moniker. That would change in 1969, when the name Stingray (with no space between the words) was once again used in association with the Corvette. The third-generation Corvette, which owes its existence to Bill Mitchell’s Mako Shark II concept, would end up being the longest-running Corvette variant, lasting until the 1982 model year.

While many, if not most, concept cars over the years were little more than a pretty face mocked up to generate interest at car shows, Chrysler tended to build concept cars that were fully capable of driving off show platforms and into customers’ garages – and many of them eventually did just that. Those capabilities will serve them well, then, when a class of Chrysler concepts will take the lawn next month at the Amelia Island Concours d’Elegance.

Perhaps in response to the Buick Y-Job of 1938, Chrysler began building its first generation of concept cars in 1940. Its initial effort was the 1940 Thunderbolt, a two-passenger convertible styled and constructed by LeBaron that featured a retractable hard top, hidden headlights, power windows and pushbutton doors. This was followed by the Chrysler Newport dual-cowl Phaeton, which also sported a body by LeBaron, push button doors and hidden headlights. A hydraulically operated soft top kept occupants dry, and as a true dual-cowl Phaeton, the car included a second folding windshield for rear-seat passengers. Six Five Thunderbolts and six five Newports (or five, depending upon the source) were built, and the Amelia Island Concours class will include a Thunderbolt from the Driehaus collection alongside a Newport from the National Automotive Museum in Reno, Nevada.

1953 Chrysler D’Elegance concept. Photo courtesy Chrysler Group LLC.

Representing the Hemi era of concepts, Amelia Island will feature a Ghia-bodied Chrysler Special (one of two built, and the only one bodied as a fastback), first revealed at the 1952 Paris Auto Show, along with a 1953 Chrysler D’Elegance, another Virgil Exner-designed collaboration between Chrysler and Ghia, from the Sam and Emily Mann collection. A 1955 Chrysler Falcon, the automaker’s conceptual response to the Chevrolet Corvette and Ford Thunderbird and described as Virgil Exner’s favorite concept, will take the show field, representing the Joe Bortz collection. The 1956 Chrysler Diablo, a restyled version of the original Ghia-built Dart (which boasted a drag coefficient of just 0.17), will also be on hand, and is recognized as the car that pioneered methods of creating concept cars robust enough to endure the rigors of real-world automotive testing.

1954 La Comtesse concept. Photo courtesy Chrysler Group LLC.

Sometimes, however, concept cars are a bit less futuristic and far-reaching. The 1954 Chrysler La Comtesse that will appear at Amelia Island did not originate from a clean sheet of paper, but rather from a question that’s plagued automotive marketers for decades: How can an existing model be made more attractive to women buyers? Based on the Chrysler New Yorker DeLuxe Newport hardtop, the La Comtesse was equipped with a transparent Plexiglas roof (a first for Chrysler), thick chrome molding, Kelsey Hayes wire wheels and a continental kit borrowed from the Dodge Royal line. Two-tone paint was used to accent the car’s styling, with the body finished in Dusty Rose Pink and the top sprayed in Pigeon Gray. Inside, the La Comtesse featured Dusty Rose and cream leather, with the seat backs dressed in platinum brocade fabric. Befitting a luxury car of the day, the concept was equipped with power steering, power brakes and a fully automatic PowerFlite transmission, which converted the Hemi Firepower V-8′s output into forward motion. The La Comtesse served as inspiration for the “La Femme” package offered by Dodge on the 1955 Royal Lancer, and the La Comtesse to be displayed at Amelia Island is fresh from a complete restoration. Owned by Chrysler, it will appear in public in pristine condition for the first time in five decades.

Other Chrysler concept vehicles expected include a 1958 Dual Ghia, which, in its second iteration, bore styling similar to the Dart concept, and a 1963 Chrysler Turbine, which was first shown to the public as a concept in 1961 and 1962.

The Amelia Island Concours d’Elegance will run from March 7-9. For additional details, visit AmeliaConcours.org.

Concept cars are supposed to be the stuff of dreams, and few cars exemplified this better than the 1961 Chrysler Turboflite, a joint venture between Chrysler and Italian design firm Ghia. Giving a nod to America’s fascination with space flight, the Turboflite looked every bit the part of a road-going rocketship, and even its gas turbine engine spoke of a future where piston engines would be reserved for appliances like lawn mowers and snow blowers. Though the future predicted by the Turboflite concept never quite materialized, the car did cast a shadow of influence on the industry that extended well beyond Chrysler’s product line.

Like the GM Firebird concepts of the 1950s, the Chrysler Turboflite borrowed many styling cues from aircraft design. Its frontal area was reduced to cut drag, and to improve airflow even further, the outboard headlamps tucked underneath the leading edge of the fenders when not in use. Instead of a conventional roof, the Turboflite featured a canopy that automatically tilted upward when the recessed door handle was pressed. In conjunction with conventional doors, the canopy allowed for easy entry and exit from the Turboflite’s four-passenger interior, although the design eliminated any possibility of using conventional windows. Instead, the Turboflite’s broad side windows opened outward on roof-mounted hinges to allow additional ventilation (though likely not at speed).

At the rear, a pair of vertical stabilizers rose from the tops of the fenders to form a basket-handle wing, not dissimilar from the one that would later appear on Dodge Daytonas and Plymouth Superbirds built for NASCAR competition. Unlike the later products from Chrysler, the wing on the Turboflite wasn’t there to add downforce to the rear wheels for cornering; instead, it served as an air brake, helping the Turboflite driver scrub off speed quickly by dramatically increasing drag. Activated automatically when the driver applied the brakes, the air brake could be disabled for city driving at (presumably) lower speeds.

The air brake was more than just a gimmick. Turbine engines, such as the third-generation CR2A used in the Turboflite, provided virtually no compression braking when the throttle was released. Instead, all reduction in forward motion essentially came from the car’s hydraulic brakes, so the air brake was seen as a necessary addition to reduce brake fade on repeated high-speed stops. The Turboflite’s rear vertical fins also contained eye-level brake lights that utilized a bright bulb for enhanced daytime visibility, coupled with a dimmer light for nighttime driving. While high-mounted stop lamps became mandated by the Department of Transportation in 1986, another of the Turboflite’s innovative safety systems never caught on: When the driver lifted off the accelerator, an amber light would illuminate on the car’s full-width taillamp panel, advising trailing drivers of a pending change in momentum. The full-width taillamp design would later appear, in modified form, on the 1966 Dodge Charger.

The CR2A engine chosen for use in the Turboflite concept was vastly improved from earlier turbine engine versions, thanks to its innovative variable turbine nozzle design. This reduced the time required for the turbine to spool up to full operating speed from seven seconds (on Chrysler’s original CR1 turbine) to just one and a half seconds, producing acceleration that was nearly akin to a conventional piston engine. The variable turbine nozzle helped reduce fuel consumption as well, and in a coast-to-coast test of the engine (in a 1962 Dodge Dart Turbo prototype), Chrysler claimed that the CR2A returned better fuel economy than the piston-engined support vehicle. Others testing later turbine cars would dispute this claim, reporting fuel economy that in some cases barely topped 10 miles per gallon. High exhaust gas temperatures were another issue, though it’s likely that the automaker could have developed ways to mitigate this.

Virgil Exner introduces the Turboflite concept in this silent video.

Inside, the Turboflite was equally impressive, boasting futuristic seating (trimmed in brushed aluminum) and electroluminescent lighting in door panels and instrumentation. While some gauges (such as the tachometer and speedometer) were conventional, the aircraft-style panel also included a pyrometer for measuring intake exhaust gas temperatures. Controls were, for the most part, conventional, but accelerator and brake pedals were deliberately oversize; with no dead pedal and limited space in the footwell, a driver had no choice but to rest both feet on the pedals, an odd design that Chrysler insisted would help reduce reaction time by forcing a driver to brake with his left foot. The Turboflite lacked a conventional horn switch as well; instead, a driver gripped the inside of the steering wheel to sound the horn, an idea that never found broad acceptance.

The Turboflite proved to be a sensation on the show circuit, but the striking concept car never reached production. Chrysler did continue to develop the turbine engine for use in passenger cars, but even this eventually proved fruitless, as the engine’s drawbacks ultimately outweighed its benefits. Designs used in the Turboflite (such as its oversize rear wing/air brake) would ultimately surface on other Chrysler products, and concepts like eye level brake lights would ultimately find their way into production across the entire industry.

Even the idea of a high-speed airbrake has resurfaced on modern cars such has the Bugatti Veyron, so perhaps the Turboflite envisioned more of the future than it’s credited for.

The modern process of introducing an entirely new automobile entails the construction of a concept car, which is then displayed at a series of car shows to solicit the public’s feedback. In some cases, the display is a fait accompli, as the car’s development has been completed and production is set to begin, regardless of public opinion. In other cases, a manufacturer pushes the envelope, displaying a radical design that will never see production, just to give consumers an idea of what the future may hold. The first such model built came from GM’s Art and Colour Section, ruled by Harley Earl, and while the 1938 Buick Y-Job never saw production, it would influence Detroit style for decades to come.

Prior to the Great Depression, automakers needed few tricks to entice potential buyers into showrooms. Each new model year brought with it a great deal of excitement, as manufacturers sought to offer more power and more amenities to a public eager for motorized transportation. The Wall Street crash of 1929 changed all that, and suddenly few consumers had the kind of disposable income necessary to purchase a new automobile. As the economy slowly improved, the malaise in new car sales lingered, and automakers soon began to realize that desperate times called for desperate measures.

For GM, these measures were dictated by Harley Earl, who envisioned creating a “dream car” that could be used to highlight features that would soon start appearing in showrooms. That the car itself would never be built in production form was irrelevant, and Earl believed that the right design could help reignite the public’s passion for the automobile. For Earl, the right design involved making the car as long and low as possible, as a guiding principle to his designs was that “oblongs are more attractive than squares.”

The Y-Job was used by Harley Earl throughout the 1940s.

Though Earl often gets design credit for the Y-Job concept, it’s more realistic to call him the car’s visionary than its designer. The latter distinction goes to George Snyder, who had the unenviable task of translating Earl’s ideas into design sketches that could then be passed along to engineering. To facilitate the process, the Y-Job would ride on a stretched Buick Century chassis, and working out the car’s mechanical details fell to Buick’s chief engineer, Charlie Chayne.

As for a body, the Y-Job would be a convertible, with a power-retractable soft top that stored beneath a metal deck panel when the top was open. Such a design was an industry first, as were the car’s power windows; furthermore, its absence of running boards, revolutionary at the time, would soon become a design staple for all automakers. The Y-Job used hidden headlamps as well, but this feature had been pioneered by Cord in 1937, and it’s possible that Earl derived his inspiration from the rival automaker. Other design features included a broad grille with vertical slats (which, in modified form, still graces the front of Buick automobiles), a “bomb sight” hood ornament that would see use on production Buicks, flush taillamps, a pop-out decklid handle, front fenders that flowed into the doors, horizontal chrome accents on front and rear fenders, and 13-inch wheels (instead of the then-standard 16-inch wheels) intended to make the car look even longer and lower than it was. With an overall length exceeding 17 feet and a height of just 58 inches, it’s hard to imagine the Y-Job needing any visual chicanery to accomplish this goal.

Power came from a 320.2-cu.in. inline eight-cylinder engine, rated at 141 horsepower and 269 pound-feet of torque. This was the same engine used in Buick’s 1938 Series 60, 80 and 90 models; despite the Y-Job’s role as a dream car, nothing was done to enhance the concept’s performance. Unlike modern non-functional concept cars, which are often destined for a date with the crusher when their glory days are through, the Y-Job was a fully functional automobile, reportedly driven by Harley Earl up until the early 1950s.

The Y-Job name itself reportedly has dual meanings. Experimental products in both the automotive and aerospace industries were generally identified by the letter X and an numerical designator, indicating the current version of the test subject. If X was good, the GM designers rationalized, then Y, one letter above X, would be even better. Furthermore, the 1924 U.S. Army Air Service aircraft designation system used Y as a prefix code for an aircraft undergoing service testing prior to initial deliveries, and in many regards the Y-Job’s role was to test the styling and content direction that GM was heading in.

The onset of World War II ended most auto shows after 1940, although GM did bring the Y-Job out for the return of the Chicago Auto Show in 1950. By then the car was no longer seen as futuristic, though few would deny that the Buick concept was influential. Its mission served, the Y-Job was stored in a GM warehouse, then donated to the Sloan Museum in Flint, Michigan. When interest in Detroit’s concept car history began to rise, the Y-Job was restored and displayed alongside other influential prototype models at the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan. In 1993, the car’s long journey came full circle, and the Y-Job received a permanent place of honor in the GM Design Center in Warren, Michigan.

For a car that never graced the inside of a dealer’s showroom, the Y-Job’s lasting legacy is particularly remarkable, but then again, so were the men who created it. Will a modern design concept one day deliver the same kind of influence that the Y-Job did? It’s possible, just not likely.

In the early 1970s, the environmental movement was gaining traction the world over. After decades of indifference, industrial manufacturers (including automakers) were forced to face the fact that the planet’s supply of raw materials, clean air and clean water was not endless. A 1972 report from Italian think tank The Club of Rome, entitled The Limits to Growth, speculated that the automobile would be obsolete in the 21st century, rendered so by a lack of raw materials to build and fuel them. In response to this looming crisis, Porsche created the 1973 Forschungsprojekt Langzeit Auto (research project long life automobile, or FLA for short) to determine if such a vehicle was economically feasible to ensure the future of motoring.

The first goal of the team was to design and construct a vehicle that could survive as long as three decades, even in the harshest of environments. Such a vehicle would need to have a highly corrosion-resistant body, and would need to come with a relatively low-performance (and thus, low-stress) engine, ensuring that even modest upkeep would deliver payback in the form of extended durability. To meet these criteria, Porsche opted to build the FLA with a “rustproof” steel chassis, wrapped in aluminum bodywork (although a stainless steel skin, like the De Lorean DMC-12, was also reportedly considered). Power would come from a 2.5-liter six-cylinder engine, rated at a relatively benign 75 horsepower and shifting through a three-speed automatic gearbox.

Porsche’s logic behind such decisions was sound. Metal structural or body components, whether built of steel or aluminum, were far easier to recycle in 1973 than body panels made from plastic. The six-cylinder engine was constructed to reach maximum output at a relaxed 3,500 RPM, and internals were, by all accounts of the day, overbuilt to the extreme. The cooling system was specially designed to allow the FLA to reach operating temperature quickly, and air and oil filtration systems were engineered specifically to reduce engine wear. The transmission, fitted with a “wear proof” torque converter, was designed to eliminate the variable of human error and provide hundreds of thousands of miles of trouble-free, if uninspired, performance. While 75 horsepower likely wouldn’t have taxed the FLA’s half shafts, the automaker took no chances here, constructing them from corrosion-proof steel and then sealing them from the elements.

Even the car’s wiring and electronics were engineered for long life and easy replacement. Wiring harnesses were split into multiple looms by system, allowing ease of replacement (or upgrade, if required). A contact-free ignition system was specified, and precious metal was used to ensure corrosion-proof contact at critical junctures, such as between leads and spark plugs. Though not specified, it’s likely that Porsche would have designed switchgear to be longer in life as well, allowing for easy replacement should switch failure ever become an issue.

Its shape was more Volkswagen than Porsche, as the FLA skeleton revealed at the 1973 Frankfurt Auto Show sported a sensible hatchback layout not dissimilar to the Mark III Golf (which wouldn’t debut until 1993). Despite its rear-engine design, nothing about the FLA personified performance or handling, both long the hallmark of Porsche’s road-car offerings. It wasn’t particularly stylish for Porsche, either, although its designers may have been able to enhance an aluminum body more than the naked steel framework would indicate.

The FLA project never advanced to that level, as the automaker quickly realized that such a long-life car would need to carry a price tag disproportionate with its performance and handling. Worse, such a car would be largely excluded from leaps in technology, forcing its owner to pay a premium for a car that was, potentially, a decade or two behind current models in performance, safety and amenities. Porsche tried to sell the FLA design study research to other automakers, but there was little interest in the unprofitable project, which was quietly ended and tucked away in a corner of Porsche’s museum.

While the FLA never proceeded beyond the theoretical stage, it did foreshadow a world where virtually every component of a modern automobile is built of recyclable (or even recycled) material. Modern automobiles are (arguably) more corrosion-resistant than models of the past, and even processes like painting have a greatly reduced environmental footprint compared to techniques of the early 1970s. Many modern automotive systems are more trouble-free as well, as demonstrated by the fact that consumers are holding on to automobiles longer than at any time in the past.

Though the Porsche FLA never saw production, it did predict with relative accuracy the state of contemporary automotive design. In that regard, perhaps the FLA was one of Zuffenhausen’s most successful models.

Generally speaking, concept cars exist to showcase designs and technologies under development by automakers, that may or may not be ready for release to the general public. Often, features or styling cues pioneered in concepts will trickle down to production cars, but many concept cars never progress beyond a static display rolled out for the yearly auto show circuit. The Chevrolet Corvette Indy, which debuted at the 1986 Detroit Auto Show, somehow managed to accomplish a bit of both: While the futuristic coupe never saw production, it did become a rolling laboratory used to test both engine and suspension technology for future Corvette models. It was also surprisingly accurate in its prediction of future electronic systems, even beyond the Corvette product line.

In 1985, General Motors was looking for a way to showcase several key projects it was involved in. As an investor in Group Lotus (which GM would fully acquire in 1986), the automaker had a keen interest in Lotus’s Active Suspension technology, which the boutique British firm had originally developed to enhance the handling of its Formula 1 cars. At the same time, Chevrolet wanted to highlight its upcoming 265-cu.in. 2.65-liter Indy V-8 engine, under development by Ilmor Engineering (at the request of CART Indy Car World Series team owner Roger Penske), as well as emerging technologies like electronic throttle control and four-wheel steering. Opting to go down the same path traveled by the CERV II (for Chevrolet Engineering Research Vehicle 2) concept in 1964, the 1986 Corvette Indy concept would employ a mid-engine all-wheel-drive layout.

1986 Corvette Indy Concept.

The project to create such a show car received the green light in late 1985, and Jack Schwartz and his team reportedly went from a clay model to a full-size show car in just six weeks. It debuted at the 1986 North American International Auto Show in Detroit, featuring such ambitious details as a 600hp twin-turbo 265-cu.in. 2.65-liter V-8 mounted behind the driver’s seat (there was no passenger seat), door-mounted displays for climate and audio controls, selectable all-wheel steering, a CRT-based instrument display and even a navigation screen (years before global positioning system satellites were approved for civilian use). Its Lotus-derived active suspension required no conventional shocks or springs, instead relying on microprocessor-controlled hydraulics to precisely position the wheels based upon detected acceleration values.

Other features shown on the car would soon make it into production vehicles. All-wheel steering was employed by a number of manufacturers, beginning with the 1987 Honda Prelude, while electronic throttle control systems would become commonplace within the next decade. Anti-lock brakes and electronic traction control would also evolve in the coming years, trickling down from high-end luxury cars to more mainstream automobiles. Even the Corvette Indy concept’s Kevlar and carbon fiber body materials would find their way into production cars (albeit expensive ones) in the coming decades, although its composite monocoque design remained cost-prohibitive for all but race cars and high-end supercars.

1986 Corvette Indy Concept.

As expected, the forward-thinking concept stunned show attendees, prompting GM to construct two more examples. One was to be used for publicity purposes, while the second would serve as an engineering test bed for emerging technologies, but neither lived up to the full promise of the futuristic original. Rather than relying on the high-strung (and short-lived) race engine debuted in the original non-functional prototype, the road-going models received power from an all-aluminum 350-cu.in. V-8 that featured a double-overhead camshaft design and four valves per cylinder. Developed by Group Lotus, a version of this engine (later assembled by Mercury Marine) would find its way into the original Corvette ZR-1, produced from 1990-1995.

While the constructed prototypes couldn’t match the 600 horsepower allegedly produced by the original version’s race-trim engine, they still managed to produce 380 horsepower and 370-lbs.ft. of torque, impressive numbers for the late 1980s. The top speed was estimated to be in excess of 180 MPH, while the run from 0-60 took less than five seconds, aided by both the car’s four-wheel drive and its massive tires (315/35ZR17 in back, 275/40ZR17 up front). At an overall height of less than 43 inches, the Corvette Indy made a far better track vehicle than it did a passenger car, even if the two final prototypes did include accommodations for both driver and passenger.

GM’s CERV III, which debuted in 1990, represented the evolution of the Corvette Indy Concept.

Though not an exact match, the styling of the Corvette Indy concept is reminiscent of both the fourth-generation Corvette and the C5 Corvette that would debut a decade later. The long-tail design, necessitated by the Corvette Indy’s mid-engine layout, wouldn’t translate to production versions, but the rounded shape of the nose and the pronounced swell of the front fenders would certainly influence the shape of the next Corvette model. Its mid-engine layout would pop up in rumors each time the Corvette was due for a generational change, but to date, that (along with four-wheel drive) remains absent from the Corvette’s evolution. Although the Corvette Indy Concept never saw production, it did give rise to another engineering research vehicle (the CERV III) in 1990, which would go on to showcase a twin-turbo variant of the Lotus-designed V-8.

While never destined to appear in showrooms as a consumer vehicle, the Corvette Indy did accurately predict the Corvette’s use of fly-by-wire throttles, anti-lock brakes, electronic traction control, satellite-based navigation, carbon fiber body panels and 600-plus-horsepower forced-induction V-8 engines beneath its hood. Even its active suspension would appear, in the form of the magnetorheological dampers offered on C5 and later models, greatly simplified from the original Lotus active suspension design. In that regard, the Corvette Indy concept was an overwhelming success, giving the public a glimpse of what was in store just over the automotive horizon.